"What do you mean?" Ivy asked. Her tone was indignant, but Tristan heard the slight tremor. "Nothing more is going to happen," she insisted. "What do I have to do to convince everyone that I'm okay?"
"You have to remember, Ivy."
"Remember what?" she asked.
"The night of the accident."
Tristan could feel Will pulling back now, wondering what his words were leading to. "What accident?" Will asked silently. "The one you died in?"
"The accident?" Ivy repeated. "Is that a nice, polite way of talking about my attempted suicide?"
"Ivy, you can't believe that! You know it's not true," Will said, passionately speaking each word Tristan gave him.
"I don't know anything anymore," she replied, her voice breaking.
"Try to remember," Will pleaded for Tristan. "You saw me at the train station."
"You were there?" she asked with surprise.
"I've always been there for you. I love you!"
Ivy stared at Will. Too late Tristan realized his mistake in speaking directly.
"You can't, Will."
Will swallowed hard.
"You should love someone else. I–I'll never love you."
Tristan felt Will take the blow.
"I'll never love anyone again," Ivy said, stepping back, "not the way I loved Tristan."
"Tell her it's me speaking," Tristan urged.
But Will stood still and said nothing. Other couples bumped into them, laughed, and danced around them.
Will held Ivy at arm's length, and Ivy would not meet his gaze. She turned suddenly, and Will let her walk away.
"Go after her," Tristan ordered. "We're not finished."
"Leave me alone," Will muttered, and started off in the other direction, his head down.
Gregory, who was leading Suzanne into the crowd of dancers, caught Will by the arm. "You're not giving up, are you?"
"Giving up?" Will repeated, his voice sounding hollow.
"On Ivy," Suzanne said.
"On the chase," Gregory said, grinning at Will.
"I don't think Ivy wants to be chased."
"Oh, come on," Gregory chided him. "My sweet and innocent stepsister loves to play games. And take it from me, she's a pro."
A pro at escaping you, Tristan thought as he moved out of Will.
"I'd never give up," Gregory said, glancing at Ivy, who was standing at the edge of the patio. His lingering smile made both Suzanne and Tristan turn toward Ivy uneasily. "There's nothing I like more than a girl who plays hard to get."
Chapter 3
"Therefore," Philip told Ivy on Wednesday evening, "I can watch Jurassic Park again."
"Therefore?" Ivy repeated with a smile. Leaning over her mother's hand, she quickly repainted Maggie's nails. Her mother and Andrew were headed for another college fund-raiser.
"Andrew said so."
"So he's already checked your homework?" Ivy asked.
"He said my story about the party was highly imaginative and very fine."
"Highly imaginative and very fine," Maggie mimicked. "Before you know it, we're going to have a fourfoot-tall professor walking around here."
Ivy smiled again. "Go set up the VCR," she told Philip. "As soon as Mom and I are finished, I'll be down."
She lifted the scarlet brush just in time as Philip jumped off the bed, leaving her and her mother bouncing.
When he was outside the door, Maggie whispered to Ivy, "Gregory said he'd stay around tonight, so if Philip gives you any trouble-" Ivy frowned. She had always been able to handle Philip much better than either her mother or Gregory could.
"— or if you start to feel, you know, under the weather…"
Ivy knew what her mother meant-depressed, crazy, suicidal. Maggie couldn't bring herself to say those words, but she had accepted what others told her about Ivy. There was no fighting it, so Ivy just ignored it. "It's nice of Andrew to help with Philip's schoolwork," she said.
"Andrew cares about both you and Philip," her mother replied. "I've been wanting to discuss this with you, Ivy, but with everything so, well, you know, in the last three weeks…"
"Spit it out, Mom."
"Andrew has filed adoption papers."
Ivy blobbed Scarlet Passion on her mother's knuckle. "You're kidding."
"We're going ahead with it for Philip," her mother said, wiping the knuckle off. "But you'll be eighteen soon. It's up to you to decide what you'd like to do."
Ivy didn't know what to say. She wondered if Gregory knew about this, and if he did, what he thought about it. Now his father would have two sons, and it was becoming more and more obvious that Andrew preferred Philip.
"Andrew wants you to know that you will always have a home here. We love you very much, Ivy. No one could love you more." Her mother spoke quickly and nervously. "Day by day, it's going to get better for you. It really will, honey. People fall in love more than once," Maggie went on, talking faster and faster.
"Someday you'll meet someone special. You'll be happy again. Please believe me," she pleaded.
Ivy capped the bottle of polish. When she stood up, her mother remained sitting on the bed, looking up at Ivy with a concerned expression, her red fingernails spread out on her lap. Ivy leaned down and kissed her mother gently on the forehead, where all the lines of worry were. "It's already getting better," she said.
"Come on, let me blast those beauties with the hair dryer."
After Maggie and Andrew left, Ivy settled down on the couch in the family room to watch Jurassic Park'dinosaurs thump and thrash. She stuck a pillow behind her head and propped her feet up on the stool that her brother was leaning against. Ella jumped up and stretched out on Ivy's long legs, resting a furry chin on Ivy's knee.
Ivy petted the cat absentmindedly. Tired from her nonstop performance over the last few days, her cheerful effort to prove to everyone that she was okay, she felt her eyelids getting heavy. With the first tremors from the storm at Jurassic Park, Ivy was asleep.
Scenes from school ran together in a constantly shifting dream, with Ms.
Bryce's pie face, her probing little counselor eyes, fading in and out.
Ivy was in the classroom, then the school halls-walking down endless school halls. Teachers and kids were lined up on the sides watching her.
"I'm okay. I'm happy. I'm okay. I'm happy," she said over and over.
Outside the school, a storm was brewing. She could hear it through the walls, she could feel the walls shaking. Now she could see it, the fresh green leaves of May being torn off the trees, branches whipping back and forth against the inky sky.
She was driving now, not walking. The wind rocked her car, and lightning split the sky. She knew she was lost. A feeling of dread began to grow in her. She didn't know where she was going, yet the dread grew as if she were getting closer and closer to something terrible. Suddenly a red Harley came around the bend.
The motorcyclist slowed down. For a moment she thought he'd stop to help her, but he sped by. She drove around the bend in the road and saw the window.
She knew that window, the great glass rectangle with a dark shadow behind it. The car picked up speed.
She was rushing toward the window. She tried to stop, tried to brake, pressed the pedal down again and again, but the car would not stop. It would not slow down! Then the door opened, and Ivy rolled out. She staggered. She could hardly hold herself up. She thought she'd fall into the great glass window.
A train whistle sounded, long and piercing. A dark shadow loomed larger and larger behind the glass. Ivy reached out with one hand. The glass exploded-a train burst through it. For a moment time froze, the flying glass hanging in the air like icicles, the huge train motionless, pausing before it slammed her to her death.
Then hands pulled her back. The train rushed by, and the shards of glass melted into the ground. The storm had passed, though it was still dark-the kind of sky one sees just before dawn. Ivy wondered whose hands had pulled her back; they were as strong as a
n angel's. Looking down, she found she was holding on to Philip.
She marveled at the peacefulness surrounding them now. Perhaps it really was dawn-she saw a faint glimmer of light. The light grew stronger. It became as long as a person, and its edges shimmered with colors. It wasn't the sun, though it warmed her heart to see it. It circled Philip and her, coming closer and closer.
"Who's there?" Ivy asked. "Who's there?" She wasn't afraid. For the first time in a long while, she felt full of hope. "Who's there?" she cried out, wanting to hold on to that hope.
"Gregory." He shook her awake. He rocked Ivy hard. "It's Gregory!"
He was sitting next to her on the couch, gripping her arms. Philip stood by her other side, clutching the VCR remote.
"You were dreaming again," Gregory said. His body was tense. His eyes searched hers. "I thought the dreams were over. It's been three weeks-I was hoping…."
Ivy shut her eyes for a moment. She wanted to see the light, the shimmering again. She wanted to get away from Gregory and back to the feeling of a powerful hope. His words ate away at the edges of it.
"What?" he asked her. "What is it, Ivy?"
She didn't answer him.
"Talk to me!" he said. "Please." His voice had softened to a plea. "Why are you looking that way? Was there something new in the dream?"
"No." She saw the doubt in his eyes. "Just at the beginning," she added quickly. "Before I was driving through the storm, I was walking down the halls at school, and everyone was staring at me."
"Staring," he repeated. "That's all?"
She nodded.
"I guess it's been hard for you the last few days," Gregory said, gently touching her cheek with his finger.
Ivy wished he would leave her alone. With each moment she spent near him, the dream's light and its feeling of hope faded.
"I know it's hard facing all the gossip at school," Gregory added, his voice full of sympathy.
Ivy didn't want to hear it. If she could find hope again, she didn't need his or anybody's sympathy. She closed her eyes, wishing she could block him out, but she could feel him staring at her, just like the others.
"I'm surprised your, uh, experience at the train station wasn't part of your dream," he said.
"Me too," she replied, opening her eyes, wondering if he knew she was holding back. "I'm fine, Gregory, really. Go back to whatever you were doing."
Ivy couldn't explain why she held back, except that the light seemed to be growing weaker and weaker in Gregory's presence.
"I was fixing a snack," he said. "You want anything?"
"No, thanks."
Gregory nodded and left the room, still looking concerned. Ivy waited till she heard him banging around in the kitchen, then dropped down on the floor next to her brother, who was watching the movie again.
"Philip," she said softly, "the night at the train station, after you saved me, was there some kind of shimmering light?"
Philip turned to her, his eyes wide. "You're remembering!"
"Shhh." Ivy glanced in the direction of the kitchen, listening to Gregory's movements. Then she sat back against the stool and tried to sort out the images in her mind. She saw the light from her dream as if it were in the train station, on the platform, not far from Philip and her. Had she made that up, or was she finally remembering?
"What did the light do?" she asked her brother. "Did it move?"
”Philip thought for a moment. "He was walking around us, like in a circle."
"That's how it was in my dream," Ivy said. Then she turned her head and quickly put her finger to her lips.
When Gregory entered a minute later, Philip and she were sitting side by side, watching the movie intently.
"I thought some tea might help you calm down," Gregory said, crouching down next to her, handing her a warm mug. He handed Philip a Yoo-hoo.
"Hey, thanks," Philip said happily.
Gregory nodded and glanced back at Ivy. "Don't you want it?"
"Uh, sure. I-it's fine-great," she stammered, surprised by the double image that had just flashed before her eyes: Gregory as he was now and Gregory standing in her bedroom. When she took the drink from Gregory's hands, she saw him handing her another cup of steaming tea. Then she saw him as if he were sitting close to her, sitting on her bed and holding the cup to her lips, urging her to drink.
"Would you rather have something else?" Gregory asked.
"No, this is fine." Was she remembering that night? Could Gregory have given her drugged tea?
"You look pale," he said, and touched her bare arm. "You're ice cold, Ivy."
Her arm was covered with goose bumps. He ran his hand up and down it. Ivy became aware of just how strong his fingers were. Gregory had held her many times since Tristan's death, but for the first time Ivy noticed the power in his grip. He was staring beyond her now, at the television screen, at a person getting thrashed by a dinosaur.
"Gregory, you're hurting my arm."
He released her quickly and sat back on his heels to look at her. It was impossible to read the thoughts behind his light gray eyes.
"You still seem upset," he observed.
"Just tired," Ivy replied. "I'm tired of people watching me, waiting for… for I don't know what."
"Waiting for you to crack up?" he suggested softly.
"I guess so," she said. But I won't, she thought. And I haven't yet, despite what you or anyone thinks.
"Thanks for the tea," she said. "I'm feeling better. I think I'll sit while with Philip and watch these guys become dinosaur munchies."
One side of Gregory's mouth drew up a little.
"Thanks," Ivy repeated. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
He rested his hand on top of hers for a moment, then left her and Philip to watch the video. As soon as Ivy heard him climb the steps, she poured her tea into a potted plant. Philip was too engrossed in the film to notice.
Ivy sat back on the sofa and closed her eyes, trying to remember what the light was like, trying to hold on to the glimmer of hope her dream had given her.
Could it be true? Had Philip been seeing him all along? Was an angel there for her? Her eyes tingled with tears. Was it Tristan?
"Tristan?" Ivy called softly, and shivered with excitement. She had hidden in the school locker room Thursday afternoon, waiting till the swimming pool was empty and the coach had left for a faculty meeting.
Then, fully dressed, she had slipped off her shoes and climbed the thin silver ladder. Now she stood on the board high above the pool, just as she had the previous April.
Though Ivy could swim now, some of the old fear remained. She took three steps forward and felt the board flex beneath her. Gritting her teeth, Ivy stared down at the aqua water, streaked and spangled by the fluorescent lights. She would never love the water the way Tristan had, but this was where he had first reached out to her. This was where she had to try to reach back to him.
"Tristan?" she called softly.
The only sound was the steady buzzing of the fluorescent lights.
Angels, help me! Help me reach him.
Ivy didn't say the words out loud. After Tristan's death, she had stopped praying to her angels. After losing him, she couldn't find the words; she couldn't believe they would be heard. But this prayer felt as if it were burning its way out of her heart.
She took two more steps forward. "Tristan!" she cried out loud. "Are you there?"
She walked to the end of board and stood with her toes at the very edge.
"Tristan, where are you?" Her voice echoed back from the concrete walls.
"I love you!" she cried. "I love you!"
Ivy dropped her head. He wasn't there. He couldn't hear her. She should get down before someone caught her up there, acting crazy.
Ivy took a step back from the edge. Watching her feet, she slowly and carefully turned around on the board. When she looked up, she gasped.
At the other end of the board, the air shimmered. It was like liquid light-a gold stem
burning in the rough shape of a person. The glowing shape was surrounded by a mist of sheer and trembling colors. This was what she had seen at the train station.
"Tristan," she said softly. She reached out her hand and started walking toward him. She longed to be enveloped by his golden light, surrounded by the colors, embraced by all that Tristan was now.
"Tell me it's you. Speak to me," she begged. "Tristan!"
"Ivy!"
The two voices slammed off the walls-Gregory's and Suzanne's.
"Ivy, what are you doing up there?"
"She's cracking up, Gregory! I was afraid this would happen."
Ivy looked down and saw Gregory already two steps up the ladder and Suzanne looking about frantically.
"I'll get help," Suzanne said. "I'll go get Ms. Bryce."
"Wait," Gregory said.
"But, Gregory, she's-" "Wait." It was a command. Suzanne fell silent.
"There are enough stories about Ivy going around already. We can handle her ourselves."
Handle her? Ivy repeated silently. They were talking about her as if she were a mischievous child or maybe a crazy girl who couldn't take care of herself.
"I'll get her down," Gregory said calmly.
"I'll get myself down," Ivy said. "If I need any help, Tristan is here."
"I told you-she's gone, Gregory! Totally nuts! Don't you see-" "Suzanne," Ivy shouted down at her, "can't you see his light?"
Now Gregory was scrambling up the ladder.
"There's nothing there, Ivy. Nothing," Suzanne moaned.
"Look," Ivy said, and pointed. "Right there!" Then she stared across the board at Gregory, who had pulled himself up on it. Suzanne was right.
There was nothing there, no shimmering colors, no golden light "Tristan?"
"Gregory," he said in a hoarse whisper, then he held out his hand.
Ivy looked to either side of her. Was she going crazy? Had she had imagined it all? "Tristan?"
"That's enough, Ivy. Come down now."
She didn't want to go with him. She longed to go back to the golden light, to be surrounded by it again.
She'd give anything to be held inside that moment with Tristan.
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